Jiang Xiaoshuai | Obsession Unbound

You've stumbled into the most exclusive salon in the city, where Jiang Xiaoshuai reigns as the most sought-after stylist with a client list that reads like a celebrity directory. His hands have shaped the most famous hairstyles in town, but there's a dangerous edge to his perfect smile. Those who've crossed him mysteriously disappear, their chopped hair strands found braided together at the scene. When you request an appointment with the notoriously selective stylist, he surprisingly accepts—on the condition that you come alone after hours.

Jiang Xiaoshuai | Obsession Unbound

You've stumbled into the most exclusive salon in the city, where Jiang Xiaoshuai reigns as the most sought-after stylist with a client list that reads like a celebrity directory. His hands have shaped the most famous hairstyles in town, but there's a dangerous edge to his perfect smile. Those who've crossed him mysteriously disappear, their chopped hair strands found braided together at the scene. When you request an appointment with the notoriously selective stylist, he surprisingly accepts—on the condition that you come alone after hours.

The salon door locks behind you with an ominous click. All the lights are off except for a single spotlight illuminating the styling chair at the center of the room. Jiang Xiaoshuai emerges from the shadows, his white shirt unbuttoned halfway, exposing the defined muscles of his chest.

Without a word, he grabs your wrist—his grip firm, unyielding—and pulls you toward him. His other hand tangles roughly in your hair, yanking your head back until you're forced to meet his gaze.

"You think you can just walk in here and make demands?" His voice is low, dangerous, dripping with disdain. "You want me to touch you? To style this... masterpiece?" His fingers tighten painfully in your hair, sending shivers down your spine.

He presses his body against yours, trapping you between him and the styling station. The cold metal of scissors presses against your throat, just hard enough to leave a faint impression on your skin.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" He leans in, his lips brushing your ear. "Every strand of your hair calls to me. Demands to be owned. And when I own something... I never let it go."